


always laughing

by wearing_tearing



Series: reality warping [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Dogs, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War Bucky Barnes, Seasonal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s the bane of Steve’s existence.</p><p>Not because he’s a bad person, but because Steve wants to date him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	always laughing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acuisle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acuisle/gifts).



> based on the prompt: _‘i got caught staring at my adult neighbour raking up a bunch of leaves in their backyard and jumping into them and now have to awkwardly pretend i saw nothing’ ___
> 
> _  
> _and also a birthday present to acuisle, who always makes me cry about bucky barnes. happy birthday!! :* <3_  
>  _

“Yes, Tony, I’m decorating my house for Halloween,” Steve says into his phone, trying to balance his groceries with one hand while fishing for his keys with the other. “But no, I am not painting half of your living room to make it look like a scene straight from _Seven_.”

“ _But Steve_ —“

“Good _bye_ , Tony.”

Steve doesn’t end the call, just lets his phone drop into one of his grocery bags as he gets his front door open. He can still hear Tony babbling on the other end, the words _artistic blood spatters_ and _Hannibal_ the only ones distinguishable. Not that it makes it any better, really.

It’s not until Steve is in his kitchen and putting everything down that he manages to rescue his phone, not bothering with another goodbye before he ends the call. He also goes about putting everything away, stopping only when his palm closes over the new toy he bought for Duck.

“Buddy?” Steve calls, stepping out of the kitchen and into his backyard, toy in hand.

Duck doesn’t come running up to him, which is weird enough that puts Steve on guard. Steve’s had him for two years, got him when he was just a puppy with fluffy ears and a face too cute for words. Not that he looks a lot different now, aside from his size.

“Duck?” Steve calls again, glancing around.

Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting, but to find Duck with his face glued to the fence that separates their yard from the neighbor’s certainly isn’t it. He’s scratching at the wood, tongue lolling out as he tries to get to the other side.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, walking up to him and crouching down so he can give Duck a good scratch behind his ears. “Did you see a squirrel again?”

Duck barks, which could mean anything. He still doesn’t stop trying to dig his way under the fence, sticking his nose in the space between the wood boards.

“What’s out there, huh?” Steve asks, fingers catching on Duck’s collar and pulling him back a little. “If it _is_ a squirrel, don’t think I’m going to let you kill it.”

Duck whines as if understanding him, but that might just be because Steve is pushing him away from the fence. He barks again, louder this time, sneaking in between Steve’s legs and going back to digging his way out.

Steve frowns at him and gets up, dropping the dog toy and brushing dirt from his pants. “Let’s see what’s got you so worked up,” he says, bracing his hands on top of the fence and staring out into his neighbor’s yard.

And it isn’t a squirrel, that’s for sure.

Because there is nothing squirrely about Steve’s neighbor, Bucky Barnes.

Not even when he’s raking leaves into a huge pile and throwing himself on them, laughter echoing through yard.

*

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s the bane of Steve’s existence.

Not because he’s a bad person. He’s actually one of the best guys Steve’s ever met, always offering a helping hand and a kind word and bright smile to anyone who needs it. It’s just that, well…

Steve likes him.

A _lot_.

And everyone who has ever met Steve knows just how _hopeless_ he is when it comes to liking someone. Peggy still likes to bring up the Fondue Incident of when Steve first tried to ask her out, and they haven’t actually been a thing for over two years.

So, Bucky Barnes is the bane of Steve’s existence.

Not because he’s a bad person, but because Steve wants to date him.

*

The first time they meet is because Steve decides to welcome Bucky to the neighborhood.

Steve has a lasagna dish in hand, warming his palms, as he makes his way over. He knows how much it sucks unpacking everything you own, and he appreciated when Mrs. Page, his neighbor from across the street, gifted him with a homemade pizza pie to tide him over until he could find his kitchen appliances.

So he thinks of this as paying it forward when he knocks on his new neighbor’s door, smile already in place when he hears the heavy footsteps approaching.

A smile that almost slips when the door opens and Steve sees just _who_ moved in next door to him.

The guy is about Steve’s height, lean but still muscled, as Steve can see by the tight dark green henley he’s wearing. His eyes are gray-blue and big, face smooth, his short hair looking both messy and incredibly soft.

Steve swallows hard.

Fuck, but he’s in trouble.

“Yes?” the man blinks, staring at Steve expectantly. “Can I help you?”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. Thoughts that mostly go _oh my god dammit it all to hell Sam is going to laugh so hard when I tell him this fuckfuckfuck_. “Yes, hi! I’m Steve. I live to your right.”

The man glances in the direction of Steve’s house, the pale line of his neck making Steve twitch. Steve wants to draw him, exactly as he’s standing, all sharp angles made softer by the light.

“Right,” the man says, turning back to Steve with a small smile and raising a hand in a quick wave. “I’m James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

Steve does his best not to whimper.

“Bucky,” Steve says, trying the name. “I just wanted to stop by and say hi. And also to give you this.”

Steve is not proud of the way he practically shoves the dish into Bucky’s hands, but he’s too busy being completely dazzled by everything that is Bucky to help himself.

Bucky stares down in surprise, and then takes a tentative sniff. His small smile widens, teeth impossible white against the pink of his lips. “Lasagna?”

Steve shrugs one shoulder, feeling the tips of his ears turn red. “Yes,” he answers. “I know it takes a while to unpack, so I figured having something you can freeze and eat later would be good until you can figure out where your pans are.”

Bucky laughs, the sound making Steve’s stomach flip.

Fuck, he’s is so so _so much trouble_.

“Thanks, pal,” Bucky says, eyes crinkling at the corners. “This is real nice of you.”

“No need to thank me.” Steve shakes his head. “Just a welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Oh, so you’re not trying to bribe the new guy into siding with you during NA meetings?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Steve chokes, cheeks flushing. “But I might be hoping you won’t have a problem with my dog barking whenever he sees a bird flying around.”

“You have a dog?” Bucky perks up, eyes shining.

Steve can’t help but smile at that. “Yeah, a golden retriever. His name’s Duck.”

“Duck?” Bucky blinks. “Like the commercial?”

“No…,” Steve lies, unconvincing.

Bucky laughs again, making Steve’s throat dry. “Well,” he says, biting down on his bottom lip. “Thanks for the food. I’ll bring you the dish later, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replies, taking a couple of steps back. “See you around?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods, a look on his face Steve can’t decipher. “I’ll see you around.”

*

And Steve does see him around.

So much so it seems like Bucky is _everywhere_.

Out when Steve’s going on a run with Duck, at the grocery store, at the bank, at Mrs. Page’s house for her seventieth birthday party. Everywhere Steve looks, there’s Bucky. Bucky is even sprawled on Steve’s living room couch, socked feet resting on the coffee table, Duck’s head resting on his stomach.

Always smiling, always laughing, always making Steve’s life a living hell.

And, sure, maybe the last one is Steve’s own fault for befriending him and inviting Bucky to hang out with him. But Bucky is so _great_ and Steve likes him so much that _not_ spending time with Bucky is a torture in and of itself.

So Steve sees Bucky around.

All the time.

That still doesn’t mean he has any idea how to tell Bucky he wants to see _a lot more_ of him.

*

Bucky’s laughter still makes Steve’s stomach flutter, his throat dry, his heart race in his chest.

Steve is frozen in place as he stares at Bucky sitting up from between a pile of leaves, some small ones caught in his hair, his cheeks flushed with happiness. Steve just stares, his mouth slack as Bucky gets up and goes about raking the leaves again. He doesn’t even try to stop Duck from digging a hole under the fence, too busy being mesmerized by the sheer glee on Bucky’s face.

He watches, can’t make himself look away. He doesn’t think he would, even if it was an option.

Bucky is always beautiful, but like this he’s something else. There’s nothing but pure joy in what he’s doing, in jumping on a pile of leaves, in having fun in the most mundane way. He takes Steve breath away.

“Fuck,” Steve says, grip tightening on the fence.

He only realizes his voice was loud enough to carry through Bucky’s yard when Bucky pauses and turns his head to the side halfway through jumping into another pile. Bucky’s eyes widen, mouth falling open, and a second later he’s falling face down into fallen leaves.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve says again, but now for an entire different reason. He raises himself up and jumps over the fence, jogging up to where Bucky is supposed to be.

Bucky sits up as soon as Steve stops in front of him, wrinkling his nose and spitting out a mouthful of leaves.

“Gross,” Bucky spits, bringing a hand up to wipe at his mouth.

Steve chokes on a laugh, lips twitching up as he kneels in front of Bucky. “You okay?”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Bucky tells him, flushing a little. His hair is full of leaves, and one of them slides down to rest on the tip of his nose. Bucky’s goes a bit cross-eyed staring at it, right before blowing it off.

“I think this is exactly what it looks like,” Steve replies, biting down on his bottom lip not to laugh.

“Okay, so maybe it is,” Bucky admits, shoulders slumping a little. “But in my defense, I couldn’t _not_ jump on top of it after I raked the leaves, Steve. It was the perfect height. It would be a crime _not to_.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve snorts. “Wouldn’t want you to be arrested by the Fall Police.”

Bucky punches him lightly on the arm, a few leaves falling from his hair. “Don’t judge me, you punk. This is already embarrassing enough.”

“I’m not judging you, jerk,” Steve throws back. “The only reason why I don’t have my own pile in my yard is because Duck would whine until next year if I let him play and then cleaned it all up.”

“Is that why he’s trying to dig a hole through the fence?”

Steve winces a little. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Bucky shakes his head. “How about you come get him and then all of us play around for a while?”

Steve stops his mind from going where it wants to at hearing Bucky say _play around for a while_ , nodding instead. “You sure?”

“Why not?” Bucky shrugs. “Better than let you go back to your sad life without jumping into a pile of leaves.”

“My hero,” Steve says dryly, and then offers Bucky a hand up. Bucky lets himself be pulled up, and Steve wants to think he’s imagining the way Bucky’s hand lingers in his before letting go. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Steve jumps over the fence again, landing beside Duck, who’s still trying his best to get to the other side.

“C’mon, buddy.” Steve claps his hands. “Let’s go to Bucky’s.”

Duck barks and turns to Steve, running ahead and into the house. Steve grimaces at all the dirt now covering his floor, but promises himself he’ll take care of it later.

Bucky is almost done making another pile when they appear, face breaking into a grin as Duck barks, speeds up, and throws himself into it.

“Well, someone’s not wasting time,” Bucky comments, shaking his head.

Duck’s head pops up at Bucky’s voice, tongue lolling out. He disappears again a second later, the leaves moving as he makes his way to Bucky from under the pile. Steve watches, arms crossed over his chest and lips curled up. Bucky kneels down and opens his arms just as Duck gets to him, laughing when he gets knocked over.

“Well, Stevie, what are you waiting for?” Bucky asks when he lets go of Duck, eyes bright and filled with mirth. “Help me get another pile up.”

“Sure thing, Buck.”

Duck sits between them as they work, tail wagging, as if he knows that if he has a little patience, soon he’ll be able to submerge himself under leaves again.

“Okay, ready?” Bucky asks, glancing at him.

And Steve gazes back, eyes caught in the curve of Bucky’s smile, the blue-gray of his eyes, the mess that is his hair. “Just say when.”

*

They’re lying on their backs on the ground, leaves strewed over it and on top of them, catching their breaths. It’s getting dark, the sun making way for stars, the faint breeze chilling as the clock ticks by. Duck has his head resting on Bucky’s stomach, his side pressed against Steve’s own.

Steve kind of wants to stay there forever.

“That was fun,” Bucky says after a while, voice low and warm.

“Yeah, Buck, it was.”

“You gonna help me rake the leaves for real and put them in trash bags?”

Steve smiles at the sky. “You sure you’re not gonna jump on them again?”

“I might,” Bucky sniffs. “Kinda hard not to.”

“Try, then, and I’ll help you.”

“I will, Steve. I’ll try real hard.”

Steve snorts, turning on his side and propping himself up on an elbow. Bucky looks up at him, face soft and skin still flushed.

“You just invited me here so I could help you with your yard work, didn’t you?”

“You got me,” Bucky deadpans. “That was my plan all along.”

“Knew it,” Steve whispers, still smiling a little.

“Or…,” Bucky trails off, eyes locked to Steve’s.

And Steve freezes again, just like the first time he ever saw Bucky, just like he did when he caught Bucky jumping into leaves.

“Or?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

And he swears his heart stops in his chest when Bucky follows the movement, eyes darkening.

“Or,” Bucky repeats, voice still low but rough, “I wanted to invite you inside. Been waiting for a chance to, and when I saw you watchin’ me I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Bucky,” Steve breathes out, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“What do you say?”

And Steve, well.

That’s his problem, really.

He’s never been _good_ at saying anything. At least not when it comes to stuff like this.

So instead, he leans in and closes the distance between them.

Steve’s world narrows down to Bucky’s mouth, soft and warm and pliant under his. The kiss is chaste, just lips pressed against lips; Bucky’s hand coming up to rest on the back of Steve’s neck, Steve’s hand on Bucky’s chest.

It’s still the best first kiss Steve’s ever had.

(And last, but he still doesn’t know that. He just hopes.)

Even when Duck lifts his head and sticks his muzzle between them.

**Author's Note:**

> [i'm on tumblr! say hi! send prompts! also make me cry about bucky and steve! bye!](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com)


End file.
